Star Trek: Shrouded Futures
by Pudor
Summary: Having conquered their galaxy, the Empire turns its sights on a new galaxy to subjugate.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This idea has been rattling around in my head for awhile and I'm not sure I can work on anything else creative until I get this out of the way.

I had originally thought of only drawing from canon sources for both franchises. But what fun is that. So I will be taking multiple sources (T.V., movies, books, games, as well as my own ideas) in an effort to bring the best story that I can. I owe this not only myself so hopefully I won't lose interest, but to those who choose to (or are forced to) read this.

Anyway, enough from me… Enjoy the show.

Prologue

Bortas Colony

Torg pushed his way through the ironically crowed streets of a nowhere colony located squarely at the ass end of the Klingon Empire. He kept a firm grip on his disruptor rifle, ready to bring it to bear in an instant if needed. His eyes never ceased moving as he took in as much detail as he could. Two shady characters talking quietly in a small alley between buildings, the glint of gold-pressed latinum changing hands. This was followed quickly a small package. Illicit drugs of one type or another. Someone wanted the world to melt away for a time…

A green skinned orion prostitute standing nearly naked in the doorway of another building. She turned seductive eyes to those passing by, even taking an unnecessarily deep breath as Torg and his troop came into view. But Torg noticed the fingers of one of her hands rubbing rapidly together. More than likely she was feeling the pressure of needing to sell her wares.

A group of street rats that were darting through the crowd laughing and squealing as little hands slipped in the pockets of the unsuspecting. Dirty little faces became sad masks of fear when they caught sight of him, clutching their liberated rewards to their chests as they darted away.

As long as no one was murdered in the event, Torg didn't feel he could fault those trying to survive or find a measure of peace.

So was life at the edge of the empire…

Many klingons would and did consider it less than "honorable" to be posted to security in a dirty little hole like this. Torg didn't mind though, not really anyway. Not like the little _ghus_ that he commanded who called themselves warriors. Swaggering down the street with their weapons slung casually over their shoulders or dangling uselessly at their sides. They would growl with open contempt in an effort to make people move, roughly shoving those who would not move fast enough.

They would openly complain that such a posting was beneath them and how they longed for the thrill of battle. How they thought that the empire should travel through the Bajoran wormhole to rid the galaxy of the Dominion once and for all. Never mind the fact that Dominion War had been over for years. Torg could sigh and shake his head in frustration when the squad's conversations came to this subject. They just didn't understand. The Dominion were brutal, relentless foes who were actually bred for the sole purpose of war.

Yes. Torg would take the uneventful life of a security guard over the hellish, frontline fighting of the Dominion War every time. He had already watched most of his brothers in arms die once and had no wish to do it again.

Smirking to himself, Torg thought the idea watching this group of _qoH_ he commanded get slapped around a bit by a Jem'Hadar _First_ would be pleasing.

A twinge of pain in his hip and a growl from his stomach reminded Torg that he had been on his feet for the last eight hours since 0400 this morning. "Time to eat," he growled over shoulder.

"Getting tired, old man?" someone called behind him. This caused the group to chuckle.

"Maybe we should find a gurney before he falls over!" The group roared at this.

"Be a nice change," Torg replied. "Give my back a break from carrying you worthless lot."

Laughter turned into growl. "Careful who you insult, old man." There were mumbles of agreement to this. Torg recognized this as Roth, the young klingon was eager for any advancement that might get him transferred to a different post.

Sighing heavily, Torg stopped and turned to face the group. He wasn't really surprised to find four faces regarding him with hard eyes and lips pulled back from teeth in an effort to be intimidating. After a moment, Torg very calmly said, "I don't insult. I simply tell the truth. If you are that sensitive Roth, I can lie to you."

Roth was heavily muscled, but incredibly overconfident, which was evident by how close he got to Torg. The young klingon probably thought that because Torg had _way_ more than his fair share of gray hair he'd be easy to make cower. Yeah, sure.

"Maybe you shou…" Torg cut Roth short by snapping his head forward and smashing the bony ridge of forehead into the younger klingon's nose resulting in a rather satisfying crunch.

Immediately Torg release his hold on his disruptor, and traded it for a fist full of coarse hair and the hilt of his dagger. Grunting with effort, Torg yanked Roth's head to one side feeling hair pulling free from scalp. The tip of Torg's dagger bit generously into the soft, fleshy skin of Roth's jaw.

"Next time we have this talk," Torg growled through clenched teeth. "I will use this knife to pick your brain and figure out why you're so damned stupid!" He finished his statement by removing his blade and planting the hardened toe of his boot in Roth's groin.

Satisfied his point had been made, Torg release his handful of hair and allowed the younger klingon to fall to the ground. He turned his gaze to each of the others in his troop before he finally asked, "Anyone else want to add to the conversation?" When no replied, Torg continued with, "Then pick him up and at least act like the Klingon warriors you are supposed to be." Turning on his heel, Torg didn't bother to see who followed.

After a few moments, Torg heard the sounds of heavily booted feet fall into formation behind him. In true klingon nature a good show of strength wins the day. As much as he hated to admit it though, Torg wasn't sure how much longer he could give a good showing. His left shoulder now had a deep, throbbing ache.

Spotting a familiar street vendor that served some of the best _gagh_ he tasted, he started pushing through the crowd his eyes locked on the withering worms. Opening mouth to announce break, Torg was cut short by a crackling female voice calling out over his com-link.

"Sergeant Torg, do you copy?"

" _Ghuy'_!" Torg swore. He hesitated a moment before tapping the communicator on his wrist. "I copy command." On one hand he hoped his voice wasn't laced with the irritation he felt, but on the other he really didn't care.

"Torg, the nausicaans are causing trouble again."

A growl rumbled, deep in Torg's chest. "Where?" he asked through clenched teeth.

There was an unmistakable huff of laughter issued from the communicator. "Landing pad four."

Sighing heavily, Torg replied, "I _hope_ they resist."

"Happy hunting, Torg."

"I am missing a meal for this… Torg out." Swatting his communicator, he lowered his head and turned towards landing pad four. With each stomp of a foot, his _gagh_ got further behind him. "Nausicaans are wanting to spend another night in a cell, boys," Torg announced. A few eager noises issued from the troop behind him in response.

"Maybe we should _accidently_ kill some of them this time. Or break a few of limbs. Maybe then they will learn," someone commented.

"Then what would we have to pass the time?" Roth replied. Torg noted that his voice sounded more than a little muffled. He wondered absently if he had broken Roth's nose, but then decided that if he had maybe the young klingon would finally learn something. More than likely not though.

As they neared the landing pad, a number of people who looked like they wanted to be anywhere other than where they were hurried past. This set the hair on the back of Torg's neck to start standing on edge. Those that made this outpost their homes were by and large a hardy bunch, a group of nausicaans causing trouble shouldn't have caught the notice of anyone other than those involved.

Coming to the end of the street that emptied into a square of sorts that surrounded the landing pads, Torg brought his troop to a halt. With the crowds gone, he saw something that made him grip his weapon even tighter.

"Is…is that a head?" Roth asked.

Quickly tapping his communicator, Torg said, "I need immediate backup to landing pad four. Repeat. I need immediate backup to landing pad four." Shouldering his rifle, he left the channel open as he started moving forward.

"Weapons up," he called and was actually surprised to hear a couple of weapons powering up. Coming into the square, kept his knees bent as he walked. Anywhere his eyes looked his weapon pointed.

The square itself was largely empty except for a few curious onlookers hiding behind kiosks or in doorways. What dominated his attention were the bodies about twenty meters in front of him. Nausicaans in various states of dismemberment formed a macabre ring around three people covered in black cloaks.

"The nausicaans are dead," Torg spoke knowing that command and any reinforcements would hear everything he said through the open channel. "Three suspects on sight. One female, two males." The female had looked to be harshly berating one of the males until Torg started speaking at which point she stopped and turned to look in his direction. "Suspects appear to be young humans."

"How did three humans kill a group of nausicaans?"

"Focus, Roth," Torg growled. Behind the suspects, Torg saw reinforcements were already starting to arrive. One of the human males must have heard the other squad entering the square, considering how he turned to face them.

The female, who never took her eyes (were they really glowing yellow?) from Torg's squad, spoke a single word in a language that his universal translator couldn't decipher. As of one mind, the trio turned and began striding towards the landing pad.

"Halt!" Torg barked. When the humans gave no indication of stopping, he continued with, "Roth, Kas. Move to contain." He noted the two trotting off at the edge of his vision. "You are commanded to halt!" But the humans didn't finally stop until their way was blocked.

"Place your hands behind your head and kneel on the ground!" someone shouted.

"Surrender!" someone else called.

As he slowly closed the gap, Torg kept his weapon carefully trained on the female's torso.

"Get down on the ground!" someone commanded.

Again in unison, the humans turned. As the woman regarded Torg though her lashes, he noticed that her eyes did indeed have a slight, yellow radiance to them. She was also holding a shiny length of metal in her right hand.

"Drop the weapon!" he shouted. He could almost feel the other klingons tense.

The woman's eyebrows drew slowly together and down, forming a 'V'. Her full lips turned slightly down and spoke another single word his translator couldn't help with. With a popping hiss, an orange column of glowing energy leapt from the object in her hand, to form what he could only describe as a blade of energy. The human men also looked to be holding energy blades but theirs were red in color.

"Drop them," Torg commanded. Squeezing the trigger of his rifle a bolt of green disruptor energy streaked towards the woman's chest. Several other bolts, fired from the weapons of his squad, flashed out from either side.

Shock and surprise hit Torg like a slap in the face as he watched the woman either nimbly dodge the incoming bolts of energy or block them with her energy blade. One of the block bolts actually came back and struck down a squad mate to his left.

"Man down!" a voice called. A flutter of fear began to worm its way into Torg's gut as the small human female began to stalk forward, batting away disruptor bolts almost contemptuously.

With his men falling to the ground around him, Torg decided to change the game. Using his thumb, he switched his weapon to beam mode. This time when he pulled the trigger, a brilliant stream of green energy sprang from the muzzle of weapon with a furious whine. This time when the woman blocked the attack, its sheer force seemed to take her off guard, causing her to take a step back, and importantly her energy blade didn't seem able to reflect the attack. Torg felt a spark of hope.

"Beam mode!" he called.

Hearing Roth scream in pain, Torg risked a glance and saw that a human male had shoved his red blade through Roth's chest. The klingon fumbled weakly at the human's arm for a moment before finally going limp. Kas was unbelievably floating in the air behind Roth, clawing at his throat. Realizing he couldn't do anything for the two, Torg turned his attention back to woman before him.

A disruptor beam lashed from somewhere behind Torg shoulder, but the woman dodged to the side easily. Almost as if she knew where the attack was aiming. She suddenly thrust her hand in roughly Torg's direction, closed her fist, and made a pulling motion. Torg's weapon and those of the warriors beside him were ripped violently from his grasp by an unseen force.

Shock stilled Torg for a moment before he quickly reached one hand towards his sidearm and the other reached behind his back. A deep bellow issued from beside him as a young warrior launched himself forward, a dagger clutched tightly in each hand.

"No you fool!" Torg cried, but this was just a reflex. He knew that it was useless.

Torg could do nothing but watch as the woman launched herself into spinning sidesteps with speed and grace that should not have been possible for a human. Upon completing her maneuver, the woman's energy blade arched up, humming as met the warrior's descending arm and neatly severed the limb with seemingly no effort.

Before the warrior could even scream, the woman stepped close and rammed her blade up into the klingon's stomach; its glowing tip erupted from his between his shoulders. Pulling the weapon free, she turned her gaze to Torg who was bringing his pistol to bear. Her mouth turned up on one side as he fired the weapon, which she reflected to his side. The bolt must have struck the warrior next to him judging by the thumping sound he heard.

When Torg made no move to fire again, the woman again said something that he couldn't understand.

"May the _Fek'lhr_ feast upon you, _wench_!" Torg cried as he pulled the photon grenade from behind his back and started to throw the explosive.

The woman snapped up an outstretched hand and Torg suddenly felt his body go rigid, his arm frozen mid throw. As the seconds agonizingly passed, Torg and the human stared at each other. He wanted to curse her, to spit at her feet. But he couldn't.

 _Fine_ , he thought. _Sto-vo-kor is waiting._

Finally there was a flash of light. The grenade went off.

8


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

 _Alaska, Earth_

"Ladies and gentlemen, and invited transgender species." Upon hearing Data's voice coming from the speakers behind him, Picard turned his in chair for a better view. The android continued with, "In my studies of terran and betazoid conjugal rites, I have discovered it is traditional," Jean-Luc turned to look at his first officer and counselor for moment before turning back to Data, "to present the 'Happy Couple' with a gift. Given Commander Riker's affection for archaic musical forms, I have elected to present the following as my gift in honor of their conjugation."

Again Picard turned back to look at Riker and Deanna. After seeing their smiles and laughter, he couldn't help but to smile himself.

As he slowly stretched out his arm, Data began with, "Never saw the sun, shinning so bright. Never saw things, going so right. Noticing the days hurrying by." The piano behind Data struck a single note, and suddenly the android's voice changed, sounding almost… emotional. "When you're in love, my how they fly. Oh, blue skies," Data reached over and pulled the microphone close while swaying to the rhythm of the music, "smiling at meeee. Nothing but blue skies, do I see."

 _U.S.S. Enterprise E_

Captain Picard sat at his ready-room desk, scanning the contents of the data pad held in one hand while his other slowly lifted a teacup to his lips. Sipping the tea, he grimaced as soon as the tea made contact with his tongue. Setting down the pad, he looked at the cup in confusion for a moment before realizing why the tea had tasted so horrid. It had gone cold. And to make matters worse it was nearly full.

Pushing himself away from the desk, Picard rose to his feet and moved to the food replicator. Placing the cup and saucer in the device, he was about to order another cup when Worf's voice boomed over the intercom.

" _Captain, you have a priority alpha one message."_

Dismissing the tea from his mind, Picard turned and started back to his desk. "Put it through here, Mr. Worf."

 _"Aye, Captain,"_ Worf replied immediately. The computer screen on his desk blinked to life as soon as he lowered himself into his seat.

The image in the screen was that of a woman, who appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties, yet her hair showed no signs of graying and skin of her face was still smooth. "Hello, Jean-Luc," she said fondly.

"Admiral Janeway," Picard replied politely and painted a smile on his face that he hoped matched the tone of his voice.

Either she caught artificial courtesy in his voice or she wanted to get straight to business. "I need you to come to starbase K-7 as soon as you can."

"We are on route to Betazed at…" He trailed off when Janeway started shaking her head.

"This takes priority," she said. "As much as I hate to say it. Riker's second wedding is going to have to wait. The Titan has already been rerouted and is on its way here. He can assume command then."

Leaning forward, Picard placed his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands. He stared down at his hands for a moment, reading between the lines of what he had heard. "What's happened?" he asked as looked back up to the screen.

Again Janeway shook head, but with a fair amount of gravity. "I don't want to say over subspace." When he opened his mouth, the admiral held up her hand to forestall him. "You know as much as I do that no channel can be completely secured. What I can say is that I need you and the Enterprise in a special taskforce I'm putting together."

"It will take about a week at high warp to get there." Picard commented.

"I know. Get here as fast as you can. Janeway out." Abruptly the screen went black.

Sighing in frustration, Picard again pushed himself from his desk and started towards the door which opened and admitted him onto the bridge. As he strode toward the captain's chair, he called, "Helmsman, set a course for K-7, maximum warp."

Commander Will Riker, his current first officer, looked quickly at him as Picard lowered himself into the overstuff leather chair. "Sir?"

"It would appear that Betazed is going to have to wait, Number One." Seeing Riker's shoulders slump slightly, Picard absently wondered if the younger man was relieved or disappointed. The idea of a traditional betazoid wedding ceremony had been a source of stress on the ship lately as all those in attendance were expected to be naked. It wasn't something that most outsiders were comfortable with.

Tugging the front of his uniform to make sure it straight and unwrinkled, Picard continued with, "But rest assured, the Titan will be there waiting for you."

"What's the mission, Sir?" Riker asked as leaned forward in his chair.

Jean-Luc was silent as he gazed at the viewscreen, watching as the passing stars slowly stretched into eventual rainbows as they passed. "I don't know," he stated finally.

Roughly a week later, Picard was again sitting in the captain's chair staring at the viewer. Filling most of the screen was the starbase known as K-7. It was an older base, having been built during the early portion of the twenty-third century and had changed hands several times during its long life. But now it was back in federation hands and had received some much needed upgrades from what he understood.

What caught his attention however, were the starships that had formed perimeter around the starbase. Rising from his chair, Picard moved to stand behind the Operations console. "Data, how many ships are here?" he asked. Before he had even finished his question, Data's fingers were quickly tapping the panel.

"I am reading twenty-three starships. Five privately owned ships docked at the station, and three dozen federation Valkyrie-class attack fighters."

"That's quite the fleet," Riker commented as he moved to stand next to Picard.

"Captain, we are being hailed. Audio only," Worf called from the tactical station.

"Let's hear it, Mr. Worf," Picard commanded as he returned to his chair.

"U.S.S. Enterprise, this is station control. You are ordered to hold position until your clearance code is received and verified." The female voice coming in over the communication channel was so emotionless that Jean-Luc wondered if it was a vulcan.

"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Authorization code; three seven alpha tango."

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on for an unreasonable amount of time before station control finally responded. "Welcome, Enterprise. Please proceed to docking bay seven. Station control out."

"Not very chatty," Riker said, sounding irritated to which Picard smiled slightly in response.

As the Enterprise moved through the ships, the captain saw something that caught his eye. Again rising from his chair he hurried to the operations console and reached passed Data and began tapping the panel. Hitting the last button, Picard stepped back and looked to the main screen which was zooming in on a ship. "There she is, Will," he stated while moving back to stand next to Riker. "The Titan."

Will said nothing for a time as he gazed at the ship he was meant to command. The Titan was a Luna-class starship meant for reconnaissance and deep space exploration. It was only two-thirds the length of the Enterprise and didn't have nearly the armament as the larger Sovereign-class. What it lacked in firepower it made up for with some of the most advanced sensors and propulsion systems in the fleet.

Finally Will turned to Picard revealing a wide grin. "She looks fast," he said with an almost child-like glee.

Laughing slightly, Picard reached up and patted Riker on the shoulder. "That she does, Number One." Thinking about he said, Jean-Luc corrected himself with, "Captain."

"Captain, we are approaching the docking bay," Data informed him.

"Thank you, Commander," he replied to the android. Then continued with, "Data, you have the bridge. _Captain_ Riker, you're with me." Turning on his heel, Picard made his way to the turbo lift.

Picard and Riker had made it to the ship's docking bay doors by the time the Enterprise had completed its docking. The large, exterior doors hissed slowly open and Jean-Luc waited for them to be open just enough before he began striding purposefully down the short tube that connected the Enterprise to K-7. Riker was half a step behind to his right.

The doors to K-7 opened to reveal a young woman standing attentively; she appeared to be a little surprised to see Picard and Riker at the station's doorstep. "Are you here to escort me to the admiral?" he glanced at the pips on her collar and noted her rank. "Ensign?"

The woman blinked her eyes rapidly for a moment and seemed to at a loss for words. She eventually collected herself, saluted, and replied, "Yes… Yes, Sir? I'm Ensign Potts. If you will please follow me." Ms. Potts turned and started walking briskly through the station. "The admirals were informed the Enterprise had arrived the moment you appeared on our sensors."

"Admirals," Riker asked.

"Yes, Sir," Potts replied over her shoulder. "Admiral Kathryn Janeway and Admiral William Ross." Picard and Riker shared a look. William Ross had been the head of Starfleet forces during the Dominion War. The captain had heard that Ross had been planning on retiring, but if something convinced him to stay on it couldn't have been good news.

As Potts led them to a turbo lift, Picard noticed something that demanded his attention. Guards stood on either side of the lift's door. But these weren't the typical Starfleet, baby-faced, enlisted men that he had become used to seeing during the length of his career. No, these were hard faced men whose demeanor seemed to ooze violence.

The compression rifles they held were also not standard Starfleet issue. They appeared bulkier and had a tube attached under the barrel. But what really caught Picard's attention was the fact that they were wearing some kind of armor, complete with closed faced helmet. It reminded him of an EVA suit, but looked as though it would allow for a lot more freedom of movement. He didn't think the helmet was really attached to the rest of the suit as it moved with the wearer's head instead of staying stationary.

As they approached the turbo lift's doors, Jean-Luc found himself having a staring match with one of the guards. Clearly the young man thought he was tough, and he may have been. But Picard had been through too much in his lifetime to be intimidated by some young punk.

Walking to stand directly before one of the guards, Picard switched to his best _captain's_ voice. "You there." He felt a measure of smug satisfaction how quickly the young man dropped the butt of his weapon to the floor and snapped to attention when addressed. "What's your name?"

Body rigid, with eyes staring forward, the guard replied, "Corporal Mark Finazzo."

"Corporal?" Riker echoed. "What ship are you from?"

"We are part of the MACO First Battalion, H&S Company assigned to K-7 under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Frank Frisk, Sir."

"MACO was disbanded over a century ago," Riker stated. Jean-Luc could hear the confusion in his voice.

Ensign Potts stepped forward and to Picard seemed to be trying to put herself between him and the soldier. "Sirs, Admiral Ross and Admiral Janeway can answer any questions. If you please, I was ordered to ensure that you made it to the Admiral's office without delay."

Picard never took his eyes off the soldier while Ensign Potts spoke and continued to stare at the man for a moment after before finally saying, "Yes, of course." Stepping into the lift, he turned to see that the soldiers were still standing at attention. Then the doors closed and he lost sight of them.

"Up," Commanded Ensign Potts and Picard felt the lift began to rise. It only took a moment for the lift to come to a gentle stop and the doors to open again. Ensign Potts quickly stepped out of the lift and moved to one side coming to attention.

As Picard moved into the room beyond the lift, he barely had time to take in his surroundings before the small frame of Admiral Janeway stepped in front of him. "Welcome, Jean-Luc," she said as she reached out a hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

Taking her hand in his own, he paid attention to how much pressure she was applying, trying to make sure he didn't squeeze more than she did. "Admiral," he replied placing a warm smile on his face. When Janeway looked beyond him to Riker, Picard released the hold on her hand and moved to the side.

" _Captain_ Riker," the Admiral said with a grin as she held out her hand.

Shaking her hand in return, a broad smile split Riker's bearded face. "I haven't taken command yet, Sir."

Retracting her hand, Janeway clasped it behind her back, as her face grew somber. "Yes, but you will soon. I'm sorry but there won't be time for the usual ceremony. Speaking of ceremony, I am truly sorry about forcing you cancel your second wedding. But I assure you this is important."

"What is _this_?" Picard asked.

Janeway stared at Picard for a moment before saying, "This way."

She led them across the room to where Admiral Ross was speaking to a raven haired woman who looked far too young to have the four pips on her collar marking her as a captain. Next to the woman was a middle-aged man who sported even less hair on his head than Picard did, although he made up for this with an impressive goatee, and wore a strange blue uniform.

"Ross," Janeway called as the approached.

Vice Admiral William Ross was a tall man in his late fifties. He carried himself with an air of authority that was common to all Admirals in Picard's opinion. His eyes were intelligent and quickly scanned the incoming group. Gray had savagely attacked the admiral's hair compared to the briefings Picard had read on the man during the Dominion War. The stress of the war must have caught up with him. The only thing that ruined the image of a strong and capable commander was the generous belly that pulled his uniform tight.

"Captains," Ross greeted. "Thank you for coming." Gesturing to the woman standing next to him with a hand, he said, "Allowing me to introduce Captain Cassandra Lawson of the U.S.S. Hydra." Captain Lawson quickly reached out and shook hands with Picard and Riker. Extending his arm toward the man, Ross continued, "This is Colonel Daniel Shepard commanding officer of the MACO personnel assigned to the Hydra."

Picard was vaguely aware of his eyebrows drawing together and a frown pulling at his mouth. "Forgive me for saying, Admiral. But MACO was a military organization and disbanded many years ago. Why are _any_ assigned to a starship?"

Instead of answering, Ross gestured to Shepard who wasted no time in answering.

"The galaxy became very increasingly unstable and even more so in the aftermath of the war, even if no one wants to admit it, everyone at least realizes this. And while you Star _fleet_ types can handle fighting from the safety of your ships, most of the less seasoned personnel can't take an enemy pointing a weapon at them." Picard got the impression that Colonel Shepard truly believed what he was saying.

"You must have a pretty low opinion of Starfleet." In the corner of his vision, Jean-Luc could see that as Riker spoke he stood to his full height, which was a full head higher than Shepard.

But the colonel didn't seem the least bit intimidated by Riker's height advantage. In fact, he turned to fully face the other man. "Not at all," he replied casually. "You're all very good at flying your little ships around. But in-your-face fighting, boots on the ground, war." He shook his head slowly for a moment. "That's were people like me come in."

"He seems to forget that without our _little ships_ to get him where he needs to go, the good colonel here would never get to his little war." The way Captain Lawson almost playfully interjected made Picard think that her and Shepard had had this conversation before. "It's a pleasure to meet you both." While he felt he should recognize her accent, he realized that over the years he had heard so many ways of speaking it was getting hard to keep them straight.

"Let's not forget that we are all on the same side here," Janeway commented.

"Yes indeed," Ross agreed. "Now that introductions and points of view are out of the way. " He started to turn, but Lawson held up a hand stopping him.

Looking directly into his eyes, Lawson moved to stand right in front of Jean-Luc. "Captain Picard, I read your file before you arrived."

As the silence stretched on, Picard found he was shifting on his feet and forced himself to stand straight. "Were you going somewhere with this, madam?"

In a completely serious tone, Lawson said, "You are a cheese eating surrender monkey."

Picard was taken aback. He saw Ross arch an eyebrow questioningly while Riker and Janeway quickly look their direction. Realizing that Lawson's accent was from earth, a slow smile spread across his face. " _Rosbif,_ " he replied causally.

Lawson chuckled lightly, moved to his side, and linked her arm with his. "Brilliant," she said smugly. "I knew I liked you. Truth be told, Captain, I wasn't sure how you'd react."

Seeing Riker's questioning look, Picard said, "Something of an old rivalry."

Riker shrugged his shoulders, and said, "Not understanding what just happened, I'll take your word for it, Sir."

Ross regarded them for a moment before shaking his head slightly and turning to a large screen mounted on a nearby wall. Reaching into a pocket, he withdrew a small remote and pressed a button. The screen snapped to life, revealing a grainy image of a starship that reminded Jean-Luc of a wedge but had a large section cut from the front of the ship hiding what looked to be a deep set hanger bay of some kind.

"This is why you are here people. Ships like this have been striking outlying Klingon outposts along the outer edge of their territory for the last six weeks. And two days ago we received word through the Klingon government that the Gorn are reporting massive incursions and requesting aid."

"I thought tensions between the Gorn and the Klingons were approaching a boiling point," Lawson commented.

"They were," Ross replied. "In fact, Bortas Colony, which _was_ near the Gorn/Klingon border, was the first to fall victim to whoever owns these ships. The Klingon High Council rushed to the idea that it was the Gorn and launched an attack of their own against a Gorn starbase. This caused the Gorn to launch an attack in response. Things nearly went to a full-scale war before an attack on a major Gorn planet resulted in this image. It was only then that both sides stopped and looked at evidence and realized this mystery third party had actually been responsible for nearly half the attacks on both sides."

"It's like the Dominion War all over again," Riker sighed.

"Not quite," Janeway said. "During the Dominion War we were either unwilling or unable to recognize the threat the Dominion represented. Imagine how many lives would have been saved if we had been willing to get our hands dirty. The Federation will not hesitate to use force to defend itself or its interests again." This statement didn't sit well with Picard.

Even during the Border Wars with the Cardassians, where countless lives were lost, the pursuit of a meaningful peace was always there. Jean-Luc himself had even ordered the shields of the Stargazer to be lowered in an act of peace. While his olive branch had been ignored, and his ship heavily damaged, he had tried. It could be argued that the Cardassians and the Dominion had taken advantage of the Federation's inherently peaceful ways during the Dominion War, but the core of who they were had always been there.

Or had it?

"What's our mission?" asked Riker.

"First we are going to offer whatever aid is needed to the Gorn and Klingons." Pausing to sigh heavily, Ross continued with, "Then we are going to scour the area looking for these ships."

"And then?" Picard asked hesitantly.

"Once we find them we will make sure they don't cause any more trouble," Janeway answered.


	3. Chapter 3

As he stared at the view screen watching the departing ships, Picard couldn't help but to feel a growing sense of loss. The Titan was banking to the port and taking its place among the ships that were heading into Klingon space. Light flashed from the ships' warp nacelles, and one by one they streaked into the darkness. And just like that a portion of his family was gone.

"God speed, Captain," Jean-Luc whispered.

"Did you say something, Sir?" Data asked from his new position in the first officer's station.

Giving a small sigh, Picard hesitated for a moment. "No, Commander. Helmsmen, move us into position."

As the Enterprise began to move, the field of view on the screen began to change. Voyager came into view first, its hull almost seeming to glow against the blackness of space. Next was the U.S.S. Falcon Island a Saber class light cruiser and the U.S.S. Red Cloud an Akira class heavy cruiser. And finally there was the U.S.S. Hydra, which according to Captain Lawson was a Galaxy class in name only as it featured several modifications that set it apart from the "herd" as she put it.

"Captain, Voyager is signaling thirty seconds to departure," said the young lieutenant who now occupied the operations station.

"Very well. Set course for Gorn and standby for warp eight," Picard said to no one in particular.

He waited in silence until finally the ship's warp engines engaged. First the stars vanished into a vortex that swirled faster and faster until finally seemingly exploding in a flash and giving way to the rainbow streaks of light that he loved so much.

Staring at the spectacle for a few moments, Picard pushed himself out of the captain's chair. "Commander, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room."

Three weeks had passed since the Enterprise had departed K-7. In that time nothing had happened, beyond the icy reception that they had received from the Gorn who had insisted that if Federation ships were to be patrolling their territory then a representative of their government had to join them. And while Picard would never admit to it, he was glad that he wasn't the ranking member of the taskforce. That honor fell to _Admiral_ Janeway and as such Voyager played host to the Gorn delegate, who was as far as he had heard was anything but pleasant.

Over the course of the last twenty-four days, Picard had talked several times to Commander... Captain Riker. His former first officer didn't have much in the way of new information regarding the mystery ships. Only a few long range sensor pings and highly unusual subspace distortion readings. He was also having trouble convincing _his_ first officer to remain his first officer. Evidently, Commander Christine Vale seemed to think that Will's wife serving as a member of his senior staff could cloud his judgement.

Also during that time the other captains in the taskforce had become fast friends and had begun taking turns hosting the others for dinner. Tonight they were gathered on the Hydra in Captain Lawson's cabin. Dinner itself had been finished for several hours, which was evident by the large pile of forgotten plates. Now the four captains and Colonel Shepard sat in a loose circle of chairs and couches, each holding a glass of wine.

Picard reclined comfortably on an overstuffed couch with a glass that he was sure had a leak he couldn't see held casually in his right hand. His left rested just as casually on the thigh of Cassandra's leg as she curled her arms around his. Despite his best efforts, he found himself enjoying her company more and more.

"Your turn Mr. Shepard," Lawson called. Tonight after dinner they had started taking turns telling stories from their time spent in the academy. It had come as no surprise that Shepard had been in Starfleet, attaining the rank of commander before volunteering to revitalize MACO.

Jean-Luc turned his gaze to Daniel, who was frowning as he slowly drank from his glass. "Okay. Now let me start by saying that alcohol may have been a factor here. Anyway, we were going through weapons' training when my buddy and I started wondering just how it really felt like to be shot by a phaser."

"Please tell me you didn't," chuckled Natia Nguyen who was captain of the Red Cloud. She was a dark skinned woman who had black hair that seemed impossibly straight and eyes as dark as coal. Her voice was a tad deep for a woman, but her laughter was infectious.

"Oh we did," Shepard replied gravelly.

"And the instructors didn't say anything?" Lawson asked as though she didn't believe it.

Daniel gave his head a shake before taking another sip of wine. "With all the phaser rifles discharging I don't think anyone noticed one extra pistol." After a quick moment, he added, "Although I'm not sure how they didn't notice some poor bastard rolling around on the ground holding his stomach." Laughter erupted from everyone, even Shepard chuckled at his own misfortune as he swirled the wine in his glass.

The man turned his eyes to Lawson, and said, "Your turn, Captain."

Cassandra looked down for a moment before clearing her throat and shrugging her slender shoulders. "I accidently transported a swimming instructor from the Academy to Angel Island in San Francisco Bay naked."

Picard felt his eyes growing wider as he looked over and he heard one of the others struggling to not spit out their wine as they tried not to laugh. "Why would you do that?" he asked bewildered.

"It wasn't supposed to be her," she replied defensively. "And she wasn't really naked. She did have a towel. I was trying for one of the girls in my class. A mean, spiteful, little witch named… I can't even remember her name. But anyway, I liberated a bag from her room that I always saw her carrying and left it in the showers hoping she would think she left it there." She paused as she drained the last of her wine. "I placed a transponder in the bag to tell me when someone picked it up. I saw a woman enter the gym that from a distance looked like the little witch-girl, and when I got a signal that the bag was moving…" Lawson did a fluttering motion with her hand. "Off to Angel Island she went and I used the transporter to remove all clothing."

There was moment of stunned silence before everyone roared with laughter.

An eternity seemed to pass before Jean-Luc was able to catch his breath. "Did anyone ever know it was you?" he asked.

Cassandra pursed her full lips as she shook her head. "No. I remotely accessed a pad in Palo Alto and then wiped its logs."

"How did she get off the Island?" asked Thomas Stan, captain of Falcon Island. He was a short, stocky man with unfortunately big ears and a hooked nose.

"I left everything that someone would need to build a communicator in the bag. It only took her two hours I think."

From her chair to Lawson's left, Nguyen was shaking her head in disbelief. "Why would you even think of doing something like that?"

Cassandra stared down at her glass and slowly rubbed a delicate finger along its rim. Her brows drew together ever so slightly while her lips pressed together. After a few awkward moments, she replied, "It was a prank taken to far."

Natia regarded the other woman for second then threw up a hand and said, "Fine. Spoil the fun and don't tell."

"Perhaps we should say _bonne soirée_ ," Jean-Luc said in a soothing tone.

Standing abruptly, Shepard stretched his arms and back in an exaggerated manner. "Sounds good to me. I got people to yell at in a few hours anyway."

Picard was just starting to lean forward to place his glass (which to his surprise was empty again) on the coffee table when the ship's intercom chimed, causing him to freeze in place.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Captain Lawson. But Admiral Janeway is requesting an immediate conference." The voice that came from the intercom was female and had a more distinct accent than Lawson.

"Thank you, Ena," Cassandra replied. "Patch it through down here please."

"Aye, Captain, patching it through now." A large screen at the far end of the room blinked to life before Ena even finished speaking.

Janeway's visage appeared in the screen and Picard noticed two things immediately. First was the admiral's disheveled hair making him wonder if she had been sleeping just prior to calling. Second was the brief pained expression in her eyes as she scanned the faces staring back at her. He almost felt guilty for someone not having invited her, but what did she expect? She was an admiral and not one of them anymore.

"Captains," she finally said slowly.

"What can we do for you, Admiral?" Lawson asked as she stepped to the forefront.

Picard could almost see Janeway casting aside the vulnerable feelings of someone left out of the group and donned the mantel of Admiral Janeway. "Our Gorn representative has just informed me that one of their starbases has just gone silent and that a battlegroup is heading there now."

"How far are we from the starbase?" Stan asked.

"A little over four light years away," Janeway replied.

"Roughly eight hours away at warp nine point eight." Lawson said immediately and when she noticed Picard turning to look at her she added, "I like math." The way she lowered her eyes made him think she was embarrassed by something.

"This may be our mystery ships people. We'll get underway in five minutes. Janeway out." It looked like she pressed the button on her screen a little more forcefully than was needed.

"That's a wrap people. Time to work for a living." Shepard clapped his hands together as he started towards the door. "Captains," he said in farewell though Jean-Luc got the impression that he said it as an afterthought only.

"Ena?" Cassandra called.

"Yes, Captain?" the response was instant.

"Standby for site-to-site transports as soon as the captains are ready."

"Yes, Captain."


	4. Chapter 4

Their destination wasn't a simple starbase as the Gorn delegate had first told Admiral Janeway. They were in fact warping to the Gorn navy's main shipyard, a target of prime strategic value to be sure. And it was located only about ten parsecs away from their homeworld. Whoever it was that was launching these attacks was incredibly bold and incredibly elusive.

The Gorn Hegemony was not a very large territory especially when compared to the Federation and Klingon Empire. And setting course for this shipyard was taking them back towards the border with Federation space, behind the location they had been at. This bothered Picard more than a little as it suggested that their adversaries operated a cloaking technology much better than current Klingon tech which could be circumvented with proper sensor techniques.

As Picard stared blankly at the viewscreen without seeing it, a sudden voice issued from the open audio channel that Janeway had ordered all ships in the taskforce to maintain. "We are thirty seconds out," the admiral said. "We're still not picking up any communications from the Gorn facility so we will assume the worst. All ships, red alert."

Seeing Data look over at him out of the corner of his eye, Picard gave the commander a quick nod. "Red alert," the android called. The overhead lights immediately dimmed in response and red bars of light that were evenly space around the bridge began to slowly flash. Jean-Luc heard similar calls from the other ships over the channel.

The gentle curve of the Hydra's saucer filled the lower portion of the viewscreen and upon Captain Lawson's call for red alert a pair of large rectangles that were roughly the size of the ship's bridge quickly rose up, one on either side the command deck. He knew there would be another emerging from where the captain's yacht used to be. These new additions to this Galaxy class were turreted torpedo launchers.

Rapid Engagement Photon Repeater "R.E.P.R."

"Coming out of warp five seconds," announced the helmsmen.

Adjusting his position in the _Chair_ , Picard had to consciously loosen his grip and took several measured breaths. While he had and would always think of himself as an explorer first and foremost, Jean-Luc couldn't help but to feel oddly excited about a potential battle.

As the warp engines disengaged, the stars quickly shifted from rainbow streaks back to their normal points of light. As he beheld the scene of a battle ended, Picard couldn't help but to feel a pang of regret that they hadn't gotten there sooner. If they had only been faster.

Broken and shattered hulls of starships drifted lazily through space. Here and there, he saw an unfortunate soul who had found their end in the vacuum of the void. In the background, the hulking remains of a starbase tumbled slowly, its windows dark and lifeless.

"Scan for survivors," he ordered and heard the rapid tapping of buttons in response.

"Between the ssstarshipsss and personal working at thisss sssite… nearly ten thousssand of my people." The Gorn delegate's voice sounded over the audio channel. Normally emotion was something hard for outsiders to hear in the Gorns' gravely voices. But in this instance Picard could easily pick out despair.

"I'm reading a number of escape pods scattered though out the debris field, Sir," Data said. Picard glance at his first officer and was not surprised to see that the android, ever the multitasker, was making use of the sensors.

"Helm, move us into transporter range." Jean-Luc ordered.

"Hold position, Enterprise," Janeway ordered. "We picked up an unknown ship on the other side of the debris, roughly three hundred thousand kilometers out."

"Data?" Picard asked.

Rapidly tapping buttons, the android looked intently at his console. "Reading a single ship of unknown class. Five-hundred meters in length and nearly two and a half thousand life signs, Captain."

"On screen," Jean-Luc ordered. As the mysterious ship filled the viewscreen, Picard immediately recognized it as the same type from the grainy image he had seen at K-7. Its wedge hull was mostly devoid of windows except for a raised "T" section that commanded much of the ship's aft dorsal section.

"Tactical analysis, Mr. Worf," Picard called.

After a moment, the Klingon answered his voice with confusion. "Sir, I'm detecting what seems to be a number of turreted weapons." An alarm issued from the tactical station. "Sir, they're scanning us."

"This ship couldn't have carried out this attack on its own," Lawson stated over the channel.

After a moment of silence, Janeway said, "All ships hold position. We're moving forward."

"Track Voyager," he told Data. The viewscreen flickered, switching from the unknown ship to Voyager, which was already making its way above the debris. In the distance, Picard could see the unknown ship was turning towards Voyager and beginning to slowly edge forward.

Minutes later Voyager was less than a kilometer away from the other ship, Janeway's voice sounded, "Hail them."

The Gorn delegate was clearly not happy with this. "No," he cried. "Thisss ssship killed thousssandsss of my people. You ssshould dessstroy them now!"

Janeway's response was calm yet hard. "Ambassador, you will refrain from such outbursts or find yourself removed from the bridge and confined to quarters." A low, long hissing sound was the only response that could be heard. After a moment, Janeway continued with, "Now that that's settled. Open hailing frequencies."

Data rapidly tapped his console and the image of Voyager disappeared and replaced by Janeway's face that filled half the screen while the other half was black. "I have tapped into the channel, Sir."

Time ticked by with agonizing slowness and Picard was just beginning to think there would not be a response when the blank portion of the screen blinked into life. The face that stared out at them looked to be that of an aged human male. The man had neatly trimmed gray hair that looked to be thinning at the top of his head. His eyes were cold and intent, quickly scanning Janeway's face. His mouth was a hard, thin cut in his face. He wore a gray uniform that had a number of colored squares over the left side of his chest.

"I am Admiral Janeway of the United Federation of Planets. You have committed unprovoked acts of aggression against the Gorn Hegemony, and I order you to surrender."

The man wasted no time in responding, but his reply was spoken in a strange language.

Looking perplexed, Janeway quickly looked to something or someone off screen. "Why can't we understand him?" she asked.

"The Universal Translator has no record of their language, Sir. We need to keep him talking to build a database," someone replied.

Janeway faced the screen again and seemed to consider the situation for a moment, before saying, "What government do you represent, Sir?"

The man stared for a moment before launching into a monolog. As he talked the wedge shaped ship moved even closer to Voyager. There was a gleam in the man's eye that Picard didn't trust, and he desperately wanted to know what the man was saying.

"We got it, Admiral," Lawson's voice quietly said.

"…were the last thing I was expecting," The man was saying.

"Pardon me a moment," Janeway said hurriedly when the man paused to take a breath and judging by the look on his face, sudden understanding caught him by surprise. "As I was saying," Janeway continued. "I am Admiral Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager."

Again the man stared for a moment before saying, "I am Grand Moff Tarkin. And I lay claim to this area of space and all its inhabitants in the name of Emperor Palpatine."

"I think the Gorn might object to your claim Grand Moff Tarkin," Janeway replied flatly.

Picard noticed Data trying to get his attention and looked to the android. "What is it, Commander," he said in a low voice.

Also using a low voice, Data replied, "Sir, the communication we are receiving is not originating from the ship but rather being relayed through it."

"Then where is it coming from?"

"Unknown, Sir," Data said. "I am attempting to locate the source."

"What is your purpose in being here, Admiral?" Tarkin was saying when Picard turned his attention back to the view screen.

Janeway almost seemed taken aback by the question and it took her a moment to respond. "We're here looking for you, Grand Moff. To either arrange your withdrawal from Gorn space or force you to leave."

Tarkin regarded Janeway intently for a moment, and Picard could almost see the man looking for better angles. "While the Empire has no intentions on relinquishing its claim on this area, I am willing to cease hostilities on these Gorn as you call them. I do however want something in return."

"You may demand nothing!" Snarled the Gorn delegate. "I would sssee you dead at my feet for the Gorn you murdered here."

"That is highly unlikely. I am also disappointed that negotiations have failed." Tarkin's expression never changed during the exchange leading Picard to wonder if he hadn't planned this from the beginning.

Janeway tried to push the Gorn but looked to be failing. "Security!" she called. "Remove him from the bridge." As two men rushed into view and began pulling the Gorn away, Janeway quickly composed herself and turned her attention back to the viewscreen. "Negotiations have not failed, Sir. They haven't even started. But perhaps it would be better to remove your ship from the area."

Tarkin was silent for a moment. "I require your ship," he said suddenly.

"W-what?" Janeway asked.

"If you surrender your ship to the Empire I will withdraw all Imperial forces from this section of space." Tarkin slightly leaned his head forward and the faintest hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. Picard's stomach started twisting into knots.

Janeway huffed a short laugh. "That's out of the question Grand Moff Tarkin."

"That is most unfortunate," Tarkin said, though Picard was certain he didn't mean it.

Suddenly Janeway's portion of the viewscreen shook slightly. She looked around uncertain for moment before calling out, "Report."

"They've locked on with some kind of tractor beam," a voice replied.

"Release my ship," the admiral demanded. Tarkin's image suddenly went dark as communications ended. Then there was a low booming as something hit Voyager's hull and Janeway's image suddenly went dark.

"What happened," Picard demanded.

The viewscreen switched back to space and in the distance Picard could see that the wedge shaped ship was bombarding Voyager with bolts of energy that were arcing along the Federation ship's hull. The lights in the ship's windows and warp nacelles flickered for a moment then went dark.

Rising from his chair, Picard stared in disbelief. "Data, what's happening?"

"The attacking ship is firing some kind ion based weaponry that appears to shutting Voyager down."

"Helm, full impulse," Picard ordered. "Mr. Worf, lock weapons and fire as soon as you have a clear shot." He was vaguely aware of other captains calling out orders over the open channel.

"Aye, Captain," the Klingon replied.

"Captain," the operations officer called. "The Hydra is engaging it warp engines, Sir."

"What?" Jean-Luc asked in surprise.

Looking to the viewscreen, he saw a flash of light an instant before a section of the debris field simply exploded. Suddenly the Hydra was behind the attacker and was banking hard to port. Bolts of phaser fire erupted from Galaxy's numerous arrays and the ship's torpedo turrets began raining glowing munitions with a ferocity that Picard couldn't believe. In mere moments whatever shielding the unknown ship had was stripped away and a new debris field began to form behind it.

The enemy ship did not halt its attack however. If anything the attack intensified as small dots began to pour out the opening in the front of the ship. Some of these dots flew at Voyager and buried themselves into the ship's hull. Others arced up and back making their way towards the Hydra, firing green bolts of energy as they went.

"Get us in there," Captain Nguyen's voice called over the comm. "And get our fighters in space now!"

"Report!" Janeway called as her eyes adjusted the darkness.

Emergency lighting that was supposed to kick on in the event of main power loss flickered unpredictably. Looking up to the large windows set into the ceiling, she could see the hull of the wedge shaped ship growing larger as they were pulled closer by the enemy's tractor beam. There was a near constant shaking as the attacking ship continued to fire on Voyager.

"All systems are dead, Sir," someone replied.

Tapping her combadge, Janeway pulled her eyes away from the windows and started making her way to the command chair. "Janeway to engineering." When she decided no answer was coming she tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. "Janeway to Enterprise. Janeway to Hydra. Someone get down to engineering and find out what going on."

"We have to use the Jefferies Tubes. Turbolifts are down," a voice said in the darkness.

 _No kidding_ , she thought irritably.

A distant boom followed by the sound of screaming metal made her heart skip a beat.

"Arm yourselves," Janeway called and immediately she saw people running to the weapons' lockers located on either side of the bridge. It was quickly apparent that lockers were also without power and the crew had to force them open.

When all the weapons were passed out, Janeway noted that there were only a few who didn't have a phaser and she was one of them. Pointing at two people that had rifles, she said, "You two go through the conference room. The rest of you come with me."

Making her way towards the curving hall located in the rear of the bridge, she walked up to the inoperable door and regarded it in frustration. Looking behind her, she snatched a phaser pistol from a young man behind her. "Force it open," she said as she stepped to the side.

As the man placed his hands on the door and started to set his feet, he froze suddenly. Janeway was just about to ask what was wrong when she heard the sound of heavy feet stomping in unison, approaching the door. "Back," she ordered but everyone was already on their way back down the hall.

Phaser still in hand, she took up position over the shoulder of a woman holding a compression rifle and pointed her weapon at the door. Janeway didn't have to wait long as two large sets of metal fingers forced their way between the doors and slammed them open with enough force that she felt a tremor in the floor.

Immediately stomping resumed and the flickering light revealed a two meter tall humanoid robot that didn't look to have a head with its right arm raised vertically before it. The lead robot must have caught sight of them as it quickly pointed its right arm in their direction. Its hand swiveled lower than it looked like it should have revealing what seemed to be double barrels in its wrist.

Not wasting any more time, Janeway called, "Open fire!" as she smashed the trigger with her thumb. Her vision was lost as brilliant beams and bolts of phaser energy streaked down the hall and hammered the robot, ripping it to pieces. The return fire from the robots behind their fallen comrade however was deafening and savage as bolts of red energy rained back at Starfleet personal.

The woman in front of Janeway was struck multiple times which caused her to fall backwards into the admiral's lower legs. As she lost her balance and fell, pain exploded from her shoulder. Rolling further into the bridge, Janeway reached up to feel her shoulder. Pulling her hand away, she found it was covered in warm blood.

As Janeway looked up, she realized one-third of her bridge crew had already fallen. _This can't be happening_ , she thought as she pushed herself up to her feet. Hearing a distant scream of pain, she looked over her shoulder and saw the flash of weapons fire coming from the conference room.

A robot stomped out of the conference room and immediately began leveling its weapon arm at Janeway. Her chest tightening in panic, she pressed the fire button on her phaser before she had even aimed the weapon. This caused a burning line of energy to rake its way across the wall, starting small fires before finally making contact with the robots chest. But not before it had fired several bursts that caught Janeway in the stomach and dropped her heavily to the floor again.

Striking her combadge with the back of her hand, she could only hope it worked. "All hands. Abandon ship," she said weakly.

As a pair of metallic feet came to halt in front of her, it was only then that Janeway realized the fighting had come to an end. Looking up at the robot, she noticed that it did indeed have a head it was just tucked into its chest. "Go to hell," she spat as she stared into the barrels of its weapon. She pressed the trigger of her pistol, but was disappointed to see the beam go harmlessly past the robot.

Her disappointment lasted only a moment as her world exploded in red energy.


	5. Chapter 5

Having snaked its way through the debris, the Enterprise finally entered clear space. Gazing at the viewscreen, Picard watched as the Hydra was forced to break off its assault of its original target and engage the small dumbbell shaped fighters that were peppering the Galaxy's shields. To his surprise the ship's phaser arrays switched from bolts to beams without hesitation and began rapidly thinning the ranks of the smaller craft.

 _Another feature to separate it from the herd_ , he thought.

"What is the status of the enemy ship?" Picard asked.

"The propulsion section of the vessel appears to be completely destroyed," the operations officer replied. "However it's continuing its attack on Voyager."

"Captain," Data said. "I am reading heavy small arms fire on board Voyager. The ship itself is completely without power and is without life support."

"Transporter room 3, beam the Voyager survivors aboard," Jean-Luc ordered. "Mr. Worf, open hailing frequencies."

"Hailing frequencies open," Worf stated.

"This is Captain Picard of U.S.S. Enterprise. Cease your attack, lower your shields, and surrender."

"No response, Sir," Worf stated.

The sleek hulls of several Valkyrie-class fighters shot into view as they arced over the Enterprise and raced forward, showering the wedge shaped ship with pulsed phaser fire. The Falcon Island took up position off the enemy ship's port side and hammered at the shielding that protected large weapon turrets.

"Mr. Worf. Coordinate our fire with the Falcon Island. I want those weapons offline. Helm, place us directly over that ship."

"Aye, Captain," the helmsman said.

"Aye, Captain," the Klingon replied almost eagerly.

As the Enterprise took position, Picard watched as brilliant steaks of orange light appeared in the viewscreen striking the area above the enemy's port side weapons. The seconds ticked by and as enemy's shields began to buckle against the combined assault of two starships, Picard began to feel uneasy. Something didn't feel right. Why would a lone ship take on four adversaries, at least two of equal strength?

"Lawson, to fleet. Break off the attack and withdraw immediately." Picard could hear her voice was thick with worry.

"We can't leave Voyager behind," Captain Nguyen replied quickly.

"Captain," Data called. "I am reading five large ships at the edge of senor ra…" When Data suddenly quit speaking, Picard looked over and saw a confused expression on his first officer's face as he rapidly tapped the panel before him. "Sir, four of the five ships I was just reading suddenly vanished following a massive discharge of energy."

"What do you mean they van…" Picard cut off when the Enterprise's automated proximity alarm began sounding.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Captain Stan abruptly screamed.

The audio channel shared by the starships was suddenly filled by horrible sounds of screaming, twisting metal. Human cries of fear and panic quickly followed. There was one last sound of a large explosion before the channel went silent but for the computer noises of the Enterprise. The silence lasted only a moment before the Enterprise was rocked by weapons fire so viciously that Picard was forced to tightly grip the arms of his chair to avoid the risk of being thrown to the floor.

"Report!" Jean-Luc called.

"Four ships have appeared in close proximity, Captain." Worf called "We are receiving fire from the ships located to our forward and starboard sides."

"Helm, full impulse! Take us underneath that ship! Mr. Worf fire at will."

"Sir," Data said. "The Falcon Island was rammed by the ship to our starboard. She is gone, Sir."

"Forward and starboard shields are down to sixty percent, Sir," the operations officer said.

Lawson had observed in a fascinated horror as four giant arrow shaped ships had streaked into combat. Her stomach muscles had twisted painfully as she watched the small Falcon Island break apart with agonizing slowness across the bow of the enemy ship. She was certain that screams of terror she had heard over the open channel would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life.

Rising to her feet, Cassandra began making her way off the raised command platform. "All ahead full. Get us moving," she called. Pointing a finger at Commander Shepard, she said, "Beam an antimatter device to that first ship."

Nodding once, Shepard quickly tapped his communicator. "Le Grant. Send our new friends a _parting_ gift."

"Lawson to Enterprise and Red Cloud. We need to get out of here."

"But Voyager," Captain Nguyen protested.

"All survivors are aboard the Enterprise," Picard countered.

"We can't leave her behind," Nguyen continued.

Sighing heavily, Lawson stared at the Intrepid's dark form still caught in the other ship's tractor beam. "I hate this," she whispered. Without looking away from the viewscreen, she called, "Shepard, beam three more devices to Voyager."

"Three?" Shepard asked surprised.

She was vaguely aware of her nails digging into the palms of her hands. "They already took one ship. We will not give them another."

"You can't do that, Lawson," Natia said.

Glancing over her shoulder, Cassandra met Commander Shepard's eyes. The man nodded grimly and Lawson looked away. "It's already done," she replied quietly. Returning to her command chair, she slowly found her seat, fully feeling the weight of her choice.

"You're making the right choice from a tactical standpoint, Captain." Ena was suddenly standing next her.

Ignoring the words that she assumed were meant for comfort, Lawson said, "Helm, set course for rally point one. Warp eight."

Tarkin sat behind his desk, his hands folded neatly in before him as he regarded those standing at attention across from him. There should have been five captains standing before him, but there wasn't and he was not happy about this fact. But a proper leader never let his emotions get the better of him. Uncontrolled emotions led to rash decisions, rash decisions led to mistakes, and mistakes often resulted in failure. And here in a strange galaxy, so far away from the full support of the Empire, failure could very well mean death.

"While I find your inability to capture a ship belonging to this _Federation_ quite unfortunate, the destruction of the Insidious is completely unacceptable."

"Grand Moff," One of the captains began. "We moved in as soon as Captain Yavell signaled for help."

"A Gladiator-class starship was destroyed, Captain. We are very far from home and it will be months before Imperial reinforcements arrive. Captain Yavell should never have had needed to call for support." Rising to his feet, Tarkin leaned forward placing the tips of his fingers on his desk. "You should consider yourselves fortunate that we _are_ far from home, Captains. Otherwise each of you would be offering your explanations to a far less forgiving audience."

He allowed them stand in uncomfortable silence for a moment before finally lowering his gaze and returning to his seat. "You may return to your ships."

Tarkin stared after the departing captains and waited for them to leave before turning his attention to the cloaked figure that was standing silently against the wall. "Do you wish to explain your lack of action?"

The figure moved away from the wall and padded silently to stand before his desk. Slender, gloved hands emerged from the folds of the cloak and pushed back the garments deep hood. The young woman never made eye contact with Tarkin; instead she gazed straight ahead towards the window behind him. "Sir, there is no excuse. I didn't act because I believed there to be no reason to."

"No reason?" Tarkin asked carefully keeping his tone even.

"No, Sir. I acknowledge that the Insidious was severely damaged and that further action should have been taken before things escalated to that point. However, with one ship disabled another destroyed, the Federation ships were in full retreat. It is still unclear how an explosive device even made it onto the Insidious."

Rising once again from his chair, Tarkin made to the window. He stared at the planet that the Empire's initial probe and construction droids had found and made suitable for later human needs.

All things considering, the droids had done a commendable job in the six years prior to Wave One of colonists. There was an entire city capable of comfortably housing all of the three and a half million people with plenty of room to spare. They had also constructed numerous automated factories turning out all sorts of goods, an orbital shipyard that circled nearly the entire planet. And the pentagon shaped gate that was stabilizing this portion of the anomaly that connected this galaxy to theirs.

"For six years droids operated in this galaxy; constructing our base of operations, mapping limited hyperspace lanes and all the while remaining undetected by the natives." Tarkin turned to face the young woman. "Within three months of our arrival, Inquisitors who cannot control themselves force our hand months before the Second Wave is due to arrive."

"The Thirteenth Brother was punished for his actions in that initial colony, Grand Moff," the woman protested.

Tarkin ignored her. "Our hyperspace lanes allow for travel to the homeworld of these Gorn do they not?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then I want an example made. A sufficient show of force should convince those here that the Empire is not something to be taken lightly."


	6. Chapter 6

_Captain's Log, Stardate: 56801.5_

 _Roughly twelve hours ago I witnessed the destruction of two federation ships which resulted in the loss of nearly one hundred souls. While the Enterprise was able to rescue a third of Voyager's crew, there was nothing that could have been done for those aboard the Falcon Island. And while I know that Captain Lawson made the right choice by destroying Voyager, my transporter chief informed me that there had been nearly a dozen personal still aboard when the ship was went down._

 _The sight of the Falcon Island slowly breaking apart across the bow of the enemy ship and the horror filled screams that came over the comm channel is not something that I will soon forget._

 _Merde…_

 _I will not however let these tragic events interfere with my duty as captain of the Enterprise. To do so would only place my ship and crew in more danger than they are already in. They are looking at me to be their rock and I will not fail._

 _In the mean time I will be heading to Holodeck One, were, at the suggestion of Lawson, Mr. La Forge has linked communications with the holodeck systems. This will allow the senior staff of all three ships to communicate in person without actually leaving their ships. An intriguing idea._

Commander Data walked at his right while the rest of senior staff followed close behind as Picard strode purposefully towards the large double doors of the holodeck. The computer interface to the right of the doors was brightly lit indicating that the holodeck was active and a program running. As he moved to stand before the doors, Data reached out, tapped a button on the panel and the doors began to hiss open.

Jean-Luc found himself walking into one of the many conference rooms in Earth Spacedock. Briefly taking in the highly polished wood table that dominated the center of the room, his eyes were immediately drawn to side wall where the transparent aluminum offered an incredible view Europe and North Africa. His gaze quickly locked onto a small area in the roughly the middle of Europe. La Barre.

He once considered the small village of his birth his home, but it had stopped being that when his older brother Robert and nephew René had died in a fire that had destroyed the family home some eight years earlier. He still felt the pain of their loss as sharply now as he had eight years before.

"Seeing ghosts?" asked a soft voice.

Looking down, he gazed into the eyes of Cassandra Lawson. After a moment he replied, "In a manner of speaking." He was surprised by the raw emotion he heard in his voice.

Lawson was silent as she studied his face, and while her concern was evident, she said nothing for a moment and instead she reached out and gave his arm a quick, comforting squeeze. "Come," she said. "Now that your group has arrived we can begin. I was informed your first officer has reviewed the sensor logs from all three ships."

"Indeed," Picard replied. "Mr. Data," he said over his shoulder.

"Yes, Captain," came Data's prompt response.

Picard lowered himself into a cushioned chair placing the image of earth firmly behind him. He found Data standing before the opposite wall, just off the triangle symbol of ESD. Looking around to see that everyone was seated and waiting, Jean-Luc said, "At your convenience, Commander."

Data lightly tapped a finger on a datapad he held and the spacedock logo was replaced by the visage of the man who had introduced himself as Tarkin. Picard was surprised how cold and hard the man's face was, especially his eyes. Jean-Luc found himself wondering if this man was even capable of feeling anything that resembled sympathy or compassion.

"As you are all aware this is the man who introduced himself as Grand Moff Tarkin, and while his transmission was relayed to us from another location, it is reasonable to conclude that he is human, as preliminary sensor readings indicated that the life signs aboard all four vessels that were encountered were in fact human."

"Who are these people?" Someone seated to Picard's left asked.

"That is impossible to know at this junction. It is worth noting however that after reviewing the algorithms used by the Hydra's computer, the root language spoken by Grand Moff Tarkin originated from earth."

"Descendants of a lost colony perhaps?" Captain Lawson asked.

Data gave a small shake of his head as he looked down, his brow wrinkling slightly and the corners of his mouth turning downward. "While the early years of human space colonization were chaotic, it is highly unlikely that these are the descendants of 'a lost colony'."

"Why, Data?" Picard asked.

"The English language that is spoken today can trace its origins to a West Germanic language that originated from Anglo-Frisian dialects brought to Britain in the mid-5th to 7th centuries AD. Over the intervening thousand years it is very doubtful that an individual from our time could successfully converse with a person from that earlier time. Take the word _fire_ for example. Old English would say _fȳr_. From there we transition to Middle English and pronunciation changes to _firen_. Then finally we come to _fire_. Three distinct words, naming the same thing, taken from different points along the life the same language.

Or the word _name_ , which in Old English was pronounced _nama_. Or _my_ , which was…"

"Thank you Commander. We get the idea," Picard interrupted.

"But, Data. Humans didn't even have electricity a thousand years ago let alone colonies on other worlds," Geordi stated.

"That is correct. But more so however I believe that for a language to evolve this far from the root dialect, many thousands of years would be needed. Without knowing influencing factors involved however, it is impossible to know with any certainty."

"What you're suggesting, Commander isn't possible." Picard looked down the table and saw Captain Nguyen sitting forward, her elbows resting on the table and her hands folded before her.

"I am not suggesting anything, Captain. I am merely following the trail presented by the evidence. Grand Moff Tarkin _is_ human and he speaking a language that _is_ based off o…"

Nguyen slammed the palm of her hand onto the table and rose suddenly to her feet. "No!" she cried. "It isn't possible. These people are not human and you'd best get that idea out of that metal head of yours."

Rising to his feet, Picard regarded Natia with a calm demeanor that completely belied the rising ire he felt over someone else's verbal attacks at Data. "Captain Nguyen, your behavior is unbecoming of a Starfleet officer let alone a _captain_." When Natia looked as though she was going to argue, Picard raised his voice as he continued. "If you cannot control yourself, I will see to it that under Starfleet Regulation six one nine you will be relieved of command and confined to quarters until we are back safely in Federation space. Do you understand?"

Captain Nguyen stared daggers at Picard for a moment before looking away and slowly lowering herself back into her chair. "I understand," she said quietly.

Jean-Luc looked intently at the other captain for time before finally turning to Commander Data. "Move to another topic, Commander," he said as he eased himself back to his seat.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," the android replied promptly. Quickly tapping his pad the image on the screen changed from Tarkin's unforgiving face to a split view of the two types of ships that were apparently under Tarkin's command. "The ships we encountered used two distinct types of energy weapons against us. Type one was an ion-based weapon system that appears to be highly disruptive to a ship's systems. Type two was a plasma-based weapon that had devastating effect to the Enterprise's shields even though the ship was only targeted for a few moments before the Enterprise was able to get underway."

"These weapons were mounted on turreted platforms," Lawson interjected.

"Quite right, Captain," Data agreed. Tapping his datapad again, the screen zoomed in for a close up of a two barreled turret that while looked small in comparison to the rest of the ship could in fact fill the room they were currently sitting in very easily. "This is one of plasma-based turrets and while formidable I do believe that it suffers from several exploitable design flaws. The first being the turn rate of the platform itself. I do not believe these weapons have the capability needed to accurately target and fire upon a moving starship at range."

"What kind of range are we talking about, Sir?" Colonel Shepard asked.

"Based on the velocity of the fired energy bolt and observed speed that the turrets were able to rotate, I have calculated a distance of two thousand five hundred meters would be needed to place our ships outside the effective firing range for this type of weapon system."

"You're kidding," Shepard scoffed. "Our runabouts have better range than that."

"If they have such limited range, how were they able to destroy so many Gorn ships let alone a starbase?" Captain Nguyen asked and Picard was relieved to hear that she sounded much more in control of herself.

"While these weapons have limited range against moving targets, a stationary target such as a starbase would not suffer this disadvantage," Worf provided.

"While that is correct, I hypothesize that it was their method of travel that allowed these ships to assault the Gorn position to such devastating effect." Turning to the screen, Data gestured and an empty field of stars replaced the weapon's image. A moment later there were multiple bright flashes of light before the four ships streaked into view. With this scene looping in the background, Data continued. "These ships were detected at the edge of our long range sensors only to disappear and subsequently reappear less than five hundred meters away. "

"Their arrival was preceded by the brief appearance of a portal that seemed to allow access into subspace. Not unlike the technology used by the Xindi during the twenty-second century. While within subspace these ships would be completely undetectable. Thus allowing them to catch the Gorn unprepared."

"But could they detect us while within subspace?" Picard asked.

"I do not believe so, Sir." Data replied.

"Well that's something at least," Jean-Luc stated sarcastically.

"Yes, Sir," Data said. "Another topic worth mentioning is the shielding these ships utilize appears to be far more resilient than our own. So much so that it is not outside the realm of possibility that they would render our weapons advantage of range, moot."

"But the Hydra was able to bring down the rear shields of that first ship," Lawson countered.

"Only after a sustained rate of heavy fire for approximately twenty seconds. A rate of fire that was only possible because of the experimental weapons equipped on the Hydra. And I believe the Hydra's warp jump surprised and confused the enemy ship's crew.

Sensors showed that during the subsequent combined attack from the Enterprise and Red Cloud, the enemy ship redirected shield power from the ventral areas of the ship and rendered the assault virtually ineffective. This was something that did not occur for the period of the Hydra's initial attack."

"Data." Geordi sounded as though he was going to ask a question he really didn't want to know the answer to. "Do you thi…" A sudden voice from the comm system caused his cut his question short.

"Captain Picard, we are receiving a request for emergency assistance from the planet Gorn. They say they are under heavy attack.

Jean-Luc looked over to Captain Lawson who nodded sharply and then to Captain Nguyen who also nodded. Tapping his combadge as he pushed himself to his feet, he said, "Helm, set course for Gorn. Warp nine."


End file.
